REM // Van McCann

84. I Was Just Thinking...

Warning: There is mention of suicide and abortion. Please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable.

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We walked back to the car with the box in my hand. Even though it was a little past noon, I was exhausted and slightly faint from not eating much. Matilde—the woman we talked to—invited us to stay for lunch but we declined, not wanting to bother her. We thanked her for having us and she gave me her number saying I could call her anytime. She said we were welcome to come back and I thought about stopping by one more time before catching the train back to Porto.

"Are you alright?" Florence asked. She stopped walking which caused me to stop. She was on the verge of tears and she hugged me, resting her head on my chest. I hugged her back, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm fine, thank you. I wasn't expecting there to be more letters," I told her. All I wanted to do right now was rip open the letters and read them in private. My curiosity was stronger than my fear.

"Are you gonna read them?" Florence's voice was muffled by my shirt.

"Yeah but not now. Let's get lunch first."

We were in a residential area where there weren't many shops and restaurants around so we drove to the city center. I parked the car and we walked a bit, studying the restaurants, trying to see what we were in the mood for. Florence was in the mood for seafood so we had traditional Portuguese food.

"We can actually see our hotel from here," I said, pointing to our hotel. Florence followed my finger and laughed.

"You're right."

We ate and talked about how nice winter was here. Portugal is laid back which is a nice change of pace and the sun revitalizes you. Meanwhile back home, it was freezing and we barely saw the sun.

"Are you ready to head back to the hotel?" I asked. We normally head back to the hotel for an afternoon siesta.

"Why don't you head back? I'm not that tired and want to have a look around," Florence replied. I stood there dumbfounded. Up until now, we did everything together but now Florence wants to do a bit of exploring on her own.

"I'll come with you," I insisted.

"No! You go on back. I know you're tired."

Some part of me made me think she knew I wanted privacy reading the letters so she was insistent that I go back which I found thoughtful. We exited the restaurant and I kissed her on the cheek wishing her a good time looking around.

When I got back to the hotel, I instantly went to work, opening the box and laying out all the letters. The last letter I read was dated 14 December 2014 so I wondered when these letters were written. One my one, I stuck my finger under the flap and opened each envelope. They were all placed in the order it was written which made things easy. And then I brought out the last letter I received from her but never opened. Funnily enough, this letter didn't have a date written at the top so I looked at the postmark which has the date it was received by the Postal Service. 8 October 2015.

That's odd, I thought to myself. Why was this letter received after she passed away? The flyer said she was last seen 6 January 2015. Her body was found a few days later on 9 January. Why did I never question the date this letter turned up? So of all the letters I have in front of me, this one from 8 October 2015 is the last one I received from her.

Maybe I'm thinking too much. It's possible her parents found it when packing their things and they wanted me to have it. It doesn't help when I don't have a way to contact them to ask them.

18 December 2014

Dear Van,

Today was one of those days I had to get out of the house. It was drizzly out but I put my rain jacket on. My parents caught me on the way out and asked where I was going. I told them I was headed towards the water. They opened their mouth to protest but I told them I'd be back in an hour. Luckily, they let me go.